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POETICAL CHIPS 



BY 



J. MILTON PALMER 



First Edition 
With Illustrations 




19 06 

MODERN PUBLISHING CO. 

TWENTY-SEVEN EAST TWENTYSECOND STREET 

NEW YORK 



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LIBRARY cf CONGRESS 
Two Copies Received 

DEC 30 '906 

A Cepyifht Entry 
OLASS A XXC, No. 

j^d I'll. 

CO FY B. 






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Copyright, 1906 

BY 

J. Milton Palmer. 



Mamaroneck, N. Y. 






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BY WAY OF INTRODUCTION. 



THE reader who will acquiesce in a perusal of 
these pages will appreciate, I trust, a rea- 
sonable quota of subjects herein contained 
and perhaps with some inclination to memorize 
rhyme and reason. 

The manner of retaining these flashings of 
thought given herein, may be a proof to the reader 
that my pen has not always refused to snatch what 
may be in some respects the exalted impression of 
the moment ; and seldom if ever are given any two 
subjects of the same metricai'Sein. I shall hope 
that the variety of my muse will bear a fair propor- 
tion to please with other verse or contemporaneous 
matter of the day. 

In the use of borrowed phrase, I have wished stu- 
diously to 'Take no man's crown." Imitating verse 
for publication I consider as servile, and doubtless 
harmful to original meter. 

In whatsoever of interest there may be contained 
in these my first so-called CHIPS, I shall hope to 



continue to select as original and as great a variety, 
should further occasion call forth — The records of a 
thousand suns ! — just as the current of life runs on 
in its waved and continually changing panorama. 

And I hope, my dear Reader, you will bear with 
me until you know every circumstance of a sincere 
motive, both in this life and the attainments to the 
life beyond, before condemning my prattle of 
CHIPS to any insinuation that a moral sense is not 
as eminently important for me to attain as it is that 
I should profoundly interest and instruct my bevy 
of readers. 

Wishing you all to be the more receptive of Truth 
and just in the right dissemination of it, I respect- 
fully subscribe myself, 

THE AUTHOR. 



CONTENTS. 

The Poet g 

The Quiet Shades lo 

What Charm of Vision lo 

The Rose of Glenville ii 

Ethereal 12 

The Prodigal 13 

In the Beauty of Thy Presence 14 

Rippling Waters 15 

The Man Without the Hoe 16 

In Memory, E — 17 

The Blue and the Gray 18 

The Old Letters 19 

A Ditty 19 

The Merry Plowman 20 

The Muse 22 

Where Runs a Winding River 23 

Drip, Drip, O Rain 24 

How Long Does it Take to be Good ? . . . . 25 

To Him Who Understands Me Best .... 26 

Fair Fame 26 

The Morning Bells 27 

The Mist Clouds 28 

Snap, Snap, O Pine 29 

My Mystic 30 

The Martyr's Song 32 

I Bear to Gentle Breezes 33 

Pretty Little Humming Bird 33 

In Love's Sweet Bower and Life's Young Bloom . 34 



The Village Urchin; or, One Christmas Night . 35 

In School Days 3^ 

Bonny Bluff; or, Esopus Creek 37 

Ye Old Pine Tree 3^ 

The Cricket's Song 3^ 

The Wood Song 39 

The Paragraph 39 

Triple Admiration . . 40 

The Banjo Player 4^ 

Echoes 42 

Sear Not A Better Page 49 

Strike! Strike! Strike! 49 

The Critic's Criticism 5° 

In Assent 5^ 

In Memory, L — 57 

Talmadge 5^ 

Ideality 59 

The Mission 60 

Didactic 60 

Childhood 61 

The Poet's Jolt 62 

In the Deep Unfathomable 63 

Surveillance of Right 64 

Ocean Ripple 65 

The Invitation 66 

Saugerties (Old Lovely Town) 67 

The Drums of Babel 68 

On the Bridge 7^ 

Rural Independence 73 

The Diversities 73 



Twilight 74 

Equivocally 74 

Lines in Memory, E — 75 

Misunderstood 75 

Snowbirds . . . 7^ 

i nave A House Not Made By Hands . . . 8o 

Spirit Bride 8i 

Love 82 

Redundancy 83 

Dame Nature 84 

Disenchantment 85 

Milton 86 

Beauty Fills the Brow To-Day 86 

The Praise of Spring 87 

The By-Gones 88 

The Motive 88 

Prospective 89 

Kindly Kisses 89 

I Have a Goodly Heritage 90 

Labor's Prerogative 91 

Love's Waiting 92 

Old Friends 93 

Launch Out 94 

Our March 95 

Saunterings 96 

The Maid 97 

Written Upon the Tower 97 

To Ideality 98 

The Lover 98 

The Spring's Awakening 99 

In Fairy Time 99 

Complimentary 100 

Lines 100 



POETICAL CHIPS. 
THE POET. 

The poet leans upon his staff, 

Awaiting thus to say; 
Each mart of music is not last, 

Nor will his last decay; 
For every thought in goodly hum 

That beats within his breast 
Is giving music yet to come, 

More eager than the rest. 

He knows, alas! no thought to please. 

Yet from his store-house riven 
The golden links of happy ease 

That bind our hearts to heaven ; 
While in his bold, endearing thought 

We love to seek his face. 
And though his words so full and round, 

He is not commonplace. 

Then as you while the hour of ease 

Do never fret or pout. 
Because some inklings here or there 

You cannot quite make out. 
For I aver in every phrase — 

Or will "yo^" tell me so — 
Just how as in the hidden stream 
The sands of sunlight flow. 



10 POETICAL CHIPS. 

THE QUIET SHADES. 

Give me the quiet shades and rippling rills, 
The song and beauty of the rythmic hills, 

Where breezes cool on yon tall mountain lie, 
And the tranquil glow of the light and sky. 

Give me the bower where nature lulls to sleep 
The ringwaves of the sun's calm noon-day heat, 

And the busy bees to their nest repair. 

And the fragrance falls on the morning air. 

Bring some sweet sylph from the nearby town, 
With eyes of blue that the early dawn 

May awake to the orb of a gladdening day, 
To the spirit of time that glides away! 



WHAT CHARM OF VISION. 

I feel the gentle breeze that blows 
So kindly on the morning air; 

The church bells peal a ringing tune, 
But not more eager than my prayer. 

A fairer morn I ne'er have seen. 
Around and by its hallowed glow 

I look upon the morning fair 
And only wishing still to know. 

What charm of vision greets me here 
Upon an age a score and ten. 

That I defer all empty praise 
Unto the plaudit's of men. 



POETICAL CHIPS. n 

THE ROSE OF GLENVILLE. 

A gentle rose had dipped its hallowed head, 
And then, as gently blushing as a bride, 

It stood to look upon the hours sped 

That drew it ever closer to its trysting side, 

Of One sun's ray that lit it into noon, 
And gentle zephyrs fanned its eventide. 

Of onward looking unto life's reward. 
Perchance another sees the early glare 

Of his own rosy life — we know not where, 
We cease to find the end 

Of all the destined beauties rising up, 

And scarcely less — more hallowed name than 
friend ! 

O happy lover, bow thy pinioned knee 
That giveth more in ideal — all to thee ! 

More rounded course of years and towers. 
Of looming strength, subjected to thy will — 

And all the little wreath of flowers 
That nod so gently to thy maiden will. 

Perchance, that I am ever to recall. 

To look askance — the reflex of the water-fall, 

O gentle Rose, I bear thee in my might, 
And love the every pleasure of thy sight! 

Thy smile it speeds its way along down the sight, 
Of the early sun that glistens to the gladness. 

Of thy life's sweet song. 



12 POETICAL CHIPS. 

ETHEREAL. 

The gleamy downs are wet with dew, 
And honeysuckles teeming; 

I hold a deeper love for you, 
And then a kindly feeling. 

A pantomime, a nest of flowers, 

An emblem of creation; 
So keen esthetic sense as yours, 

Would save a goodly nation ! 

From care, and worry, and content, 

And not contented be so, 
Alas! the thralls that rack my brain, 

I am a Grecian hero ! 

The soul would draw the soul to soul, 

And be contented never; 
I am to life a giving spring; 

I am a mighty river. 

I stand askance as one who knows. 
And know I still of — nothing; 

I know, I know as nature flows; 
I know there's nothing shocking. 

A man har nerve to win and fight, 

And battle to endeavor; 
And yet, were I to delve in plight: 

I know I, know I, never ! 



POETICAL CHIPS. I3 

THE PRODIGAL. 

The morn that strove so fitfully 

With the whitened locks and gray 
Hath given the echo to the winds, 

And they bear it far away. 

And methinks I see an angel peer 

From the blue and vaulted sky, 
In a whispered hush — 

For a deed unblushed, 
For shame cannot deny. 

So blind misled that mocking call. 

Of a demon, clothed in sin, 
While the fires rake — 

And the stanchions break 
Of the heart, so vile within. 

O, who shall mark his mother earth 

By a deed so thrice unblessed; 
Or calm the raging storm that rides 

So ruling in his breast. 

Shall the fair winds bid assent, 

Or the sea-gulls hush their cry, 
As we see no more of the salient shore, 

Enrapt from mortal eye. ^ 



14 POETICAL CHIPS. 

IN THE BEAUTY OF THY PRESENCE. 

In the beauty of thy presence, 

When the evening shadows fall, 
I can feel the gentle stealings 

Of thy goodness over all 
As I lift to meet the fair winds, 

Or I listen to the rain ; 
Yet in all the bright to-morrow 

I will hope and trust again. 



In the beauty of thy presence 

I can feel thy spirit — thine, 
As I hear the sea-birds calling; 

Break away, fond heart of mine; 
For I know that you will meet me 

When the moonbeams kindly spreac 
O'er the gleaming golden waters 

Comes the light of heaven's tread. 



In the beauty of thy presence 

Tinkle softly, gentle bell ; 
I will hasten to thy presence, 

Where thy honor loves to dwell; 
As I kneel to seek thy favor, 

All thy beauty beams, the same. 
In the beauty of thy presence 

I will often come again ! 



POETICAL CHIPS. I5 

RIPPLING WATERS. 

I sing a song, O to be free 

Of care, restraint and useless pain; 
I meet the azure of a tear, 

A trembling soul to life again, 
The heights unsealed, while — but alon^ — 

I seek a product of my own. 



I seek no passion's love to soar, 
A knock while at the open door; 

I see a face I've seen before, 
An ideal to my soul's implore. 



Gently, sweetly and completely. 
Soothe my life — the rippHng waters; 

Be so fair, and fair so be. 

All ye happy sons and daughters. 



In simplicity and truth 

I would stake my living chances; 
I am sprightly in my youth. 

Many themes and form enhances. 



Giving gold to theme and lover, 
Though I yet did not discover, 

Breathing gently, whispering low, 
Hidden purer than the snow. 

While I come and while I go, 
'Tis this creature I would know. 



Know her gently, kindly sweetly, 
Know, and known to me completely, 

While I hold my love discreetly. 
Can I fail to understand 

She her part and I of man. 



i6 POETICAL CHIPS. 

THE MAN WITHOUT THE HOE. 

O man without the hoe, 

Whose (lost) untrammeled stars 
Have baffled many a world of ours, 

And wrecked the being of our powers. 
To grind apace the needed new reform. 

Where man is king and brother to his lord. 
And wealth is still an undeserved part 

To feast the soul and swell the heart, 
And heart is greater than the mind, 

And caprice that shall chain such of its kind. 

In mere extreme of lordly sway. 

Or mere gentility, of what is right. 
To divine, to delve in greater mystery for light, 

Where all around an honored time is given, 
O man without the hoe ! 

What goodly thoughts are given they behold, 
The honored work of God, the simple plan, 

The heart is more than mind and man can under- 
stand, 
Be occupied, contented, fully pleased, 

O man without the hoe, or give it ease. 

Mistaken in the early plan's abode 

And destiny is fitted to its load. 
Who dares to shrink the meted task of one great swaj, 

Has closed the gate that lighteth all his day. 
Crude destiny is kinder to its flowers. 

That dot the wayside hill and bowers, 
Than one transplanted by its root. 

In evil incompleteness of the soil. 

O man without the hoe! 

No course upheld by God's remittent plan 
When they who labor most in heart, in life 

Is likened to — (''O brother to the ox" — or Jackal's 
bray) 
Is man of God enamored, less than a sparrow's fall. 



POETICAL CHIPS. I7 

IN MEMORY, E— . 



Rose the moon in midnight splendor 

O'er a land of peaceful ray; 
On a bed of death's cold slumber 

There a mother's darling lay, 
High of order, energetic. 

Never ceasing to adore, 
Shall we lay him by the yew tree? 

Shall we meet thee never more? 



Honor born of love's creation, 

Still thy stated head is laid, 
We have felt sweet life's relation 

In the sunshine and the shade ! 
As we viewed thy stately stepping 

On the upward road of life; 
As we see your helmet resting 

From the weighty care of strife. 

Press we back the darkened lashes 

From the brow that knows no pain : 
See his clear-cut line of lineage, 

Let us kiss him once again. 
Let us stand beside his bier, 

Though our hearts the sadness feel 
We shall bind remaining kinships 

With love's stronger ropes of steel. 



i8 POETICAL CHIPS. 

THE BLUE AND THE GRAY. 

Sleep, Sleep, Sleep, 

Where the gentle willows weep, 
Where the kindly shadows creep 

By the side of the rock and rill. 
Where the cannon's voice is still. 

Seen its vantage on the hill. 

Sleeping there the Blue and Gray, 
While the fair winds bear away 

Deeds of daring md dismay; 
Heed they not in their repose? 

While the beating hail and snows? 
Rest upon their fallen foes. 

Bared their breast as they who fly 
To their country's call and die 

Unforgotten — there they lie. 

Freed are they — that mortals bled 

From a cause unjustly led. 
Made they heroes, it is said. 

While we strew in memory flowers 
O'er these cherished graves of ours. 

Dear yet to our country's powers. 
As we yet shall meet the steel, 

Yet another foe shall deal. 
Death — undying in our zeal. 



POETICAL CHIPS. I9 

THE OLD LETTERS. 

Laid away, a record of goodly deeds, 
Are the old and cherished letters that tell 

Of life, hope, friends, and affections war, 
When true hearts came uppermost of love. 

Years ago, and had more than common praise. 

When in the mornings, lightsome step, alert 
Drew first from sin and then from selfishness apace, 

And found, as in a goodly pearl, the heart a place 
Where heaven's light did ever gladly shine; 

God's watch is ever o'er us while we pray. 

Tied most gently by memory of girlhood days, 
The hand whose soothing touch held patience to the 
last; 

Thy ship of faith shall ever ride 
Within the swelling of the tide. 

And meet again, and loftly rise, as eagles soar. 
And anchor in the harbor which call is peace! 



A DITTY. 

There's many a year and many a tear 

The sweeping winds go by; 
There's many an anxious thought and look. 

There's many a heave and sigh. 

There's many a year, I speed life here 

Beneath the noon-tide glow ; 
There's many a jovial haunt and nook 

That I loved so and so. 

Those early days I lived in praise 

And now look, still aglow. 
And chronicle in future years 

I live my life to know. 



20 POETICAL CHIPS. 

THE MERRY PLOWMAN. 

I have bid good-by to my old friend John, 

And he bade good-by to me, 
But what I want is not his fame. 

But I want his sympathy. 

Six years ago he left our town, 
By the moon-beams o'er his head, 

For one to write these verses down, 
He'd a way to the right, it is said. 

He met with fame on a trestle bar, 

Where the lazy ships pass by; 
All things were easy for him to do, 

'Twould seem easy — for him to die. 

He never did much for our town. 

And the most he took away, 
But he wakes and whistles to a passing cloud, 

Or a child on the sands at play. 

I don't suppose there was much for him here, 
In a gossiping-tongue-loosed town, 

"But when he talked in the meeting house. 
He could bring the angels down" ! 

He loved a girl, so the people say. 

And hadn't quite the heart, 
But what I know is a different thing. 

And it makes the hot tears start. 



POETICAL CHIPS. 

''He loved quite wisely, but never too well," 

Of course we all must say, 
But strive with a vengeance o'er my will, 

And now he's made it pay. 



He made a venture and to win, 
With no uncommon bliss — 

And you may imagine his surprise. 
When he got a note like this : 



"I have put that away for quite some time, 
Your words are beautiful in rhyme; 

I read with interest to the end. 
But I can be only be, your— Friend.' 



21 



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He mused on a meek and mystic maid 
Somewhere up in the ethereal heights. 

And she vowed she never would come down 
To earth and such ungodly sights. 

And I know if I met dear John once more, 

To learn the better way 

How I felt the same distress myself 

Before he went away. 

And if I could meet my good friend John, 

In a dear ethereal sky. 
What is heaven for him,' would be heaven for me 
And we'd both have a mutual ply. 



22 POETICAL CHIPS. 

THE MUSE. 

Blessed heart as to my bosom, 
Purest ray of noon-day sun,' 

Roll thy peace lore well together 
Before the day of night is done; 

When kind actions roll before me 
Shall these scepters ere be done. 



Fair faces are beckoning me, 
And they look for one wan smile, 

That I should be more or less to thee 
And dutiful all the while ; 

For I am a soul that knows the right, 

That records my phantom's dear delight. 

Sweet, bitter past, alas! alas! 

That I should let one hour pass, 
Unmoved to one sweet holy love. 

Where one more voicing could be done; 
O hearts and faces as before 

Know you the deeds in high adore? 
Gleaming up thy paths and places, 
I again behold thy faces. 




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POETICAL CHIPS. 23 

WHERE RUNS A WINDING RIVER. 

There's many a flake, and many a break 

Where runs a winding river ; 
And many a mind that hearts shall take, 

While love runs on forever. 



There's many a seam, and many a gleam, 
And many a heart's fond quiver; 

While the tide is high, while the tide is low, 
We fondly love the giver. 



There's many a thought that is kindly brought 
To the slumbering herd's reposes; 

But the river sides too, are decked with dew, 
Anu the blush is on the roses. 



There's many a rod of seamy sod, 

And many a flow of glee. 
But they all flow on in a current strong. 

And they make for the open sea. 



O what do you say for a jolly day 

Where runs a winding river? 
Or what do you say for the heart's abound 

That love may never sever? 



May your days be bright 

And blossom as the rose, 
The greater cause for thankfulness 
The greater God bestows. 



1 
24 POETICAL CHIPS. 

DRIP, DRIP, O RAIN. 

Drip, drip, O rain — 

O lumbering sound of toil and gain. 
Incessant beat of wasted chime — 

You were a joy to me sublime 
When from the fields I garnered in 

More goodly sheaves than met the spoil; 
When from thy broad and gilded eaves 

Sweet laughter ran along the sheaves. 



Wet, damped and steeped within 

These vain endeavors cease to strive, 
That fates declare shall never rise 

Until I lay my armor down. 
My shield, my heavy shield, 

And bid my soul to heaven yield. 
And listen to that far-off bell, 

The joy that makes my bosom swell. 

Complacency and calm the breast, 

Of him who never stoops to ease. 
His well-worn burden of the day 

Where night is hushed beneath the seas ; 
To borrow debts, are debts to pay. 

To pay them e'en the price of — blood, 
Where truth and reason shall consort 

In narrow shades of night to run. 

Regain thyself, benighted soul. 

And cast vain reason to the winds, 
For duty is of twice two-fold 

When meted by the Byzantine; 
That which is best, so free befalls. 

And simple faith the Lord provides, 
Indebted to the one, a slave, 

'Twould wreck the minions of our graves. 



POETICAL CHIPS. 25 

HOW LONG DOES IT TAKE TO BE GOOD? 



(( 



(< 



Only a minute," this lad said 
As he answered a question of mine; 
**Only a minute it takes to be good," 
As his bright eyes answered mine. 

Tell me how long it takes to be good, 

And I'll throw you some cherries down; 

Tell me how long it takes to be good, 
And you will have the secret found. 

Tell me how long it takes to be good 
When the surges of passion roar. 

Tell me how long it takes to be good — 
''Only a minute, not more!" 

Tell me how long it takes to be good, 
Were you e'en an old man, and gray! 
Only a minute it takes to be good — 
Send the cherries along this way!" 



HAPPY HOUR. 

O gentle, fulsome, happy hour! 

I knew you when a boy. 
Or when that Cupid's bow relaxed 
Your struggle for a toy. 

O happy hour as you sing 

In tones of childhood glee; 
The happy sunbeams in thy path 
Shall beat a melody. 

The joyous birds that round thee soar 

Shall carol in the song 
Of greater work to nobly do. 
To suffer and be strong! 

The hidden music of the soul, 

Thy pure, poetic vein. 
Shall never travail in the dust, 
But live and live again. 



26 POETICAL CHIPS. 

TO HIM WHO UNDERSTANDS ME BEST. 

To Him who understands me best 
I give my heart, for there's no rest 

Estranged from home and kindred ties, 
Redeeming yet to others' eyes. 



While on the pillow gently lay, 
His keeping o'er me, while I pray, 

Enhanced his love, though lone: the day 
Of hope's return. 



To him whose girth of beauty round, 
Can tell of raptures, deep, profound, 

And look beyond this neutral ground 
Of earth's decay. 



To him I give my all and these — 
For yet in all — that I should please, 

A priceless gift of heaven's land, 
And yet to lean upon his breast, 

In love to feel His kind caress. 



FAIR FAME. 

Fair fame, around thy Christmastide bestow, 
The days may run where orange blossoms blow 
Upon thy mantled cover through the night; 
A heart so pure shall be thy bosom light. 
As stalking from my cavern thus I come, 
And view the gentle sunshine of thy home, 
I long to love, but cannot find elsewhere 
The strength to grieve, a blessing or a prayer. 
A meteor-light shall pass along thy way, 
Should days grow dim ; no longer 
Shall I ever stray from Thee. 



POETICAL CHIPS. 27 

THE MORNING BELLS. 

I love you, churches of the dale, 

The morning sun, the quiet evening hour, 

Thy bells of promise bid our weary pilgrimage home 
(If that it be a weary pilgrimage) 
I know the glory of the early dawn bids fair to me, 

Which glory all I give to God ! 

I hear thy welcome answer to the call 
That bids response in my own heart; 

The tears are ever to a warm, expanding ray 
That bids me joy in sorrow — or again 

The wood-thrush sings its happy song of spring. 

Again, O gentle bell, I hear thy call 
Of innocence enslaved to no renown, 

Or seated on my mother's knee, 

(The oft attempted thought to recompense) ; 

A memory all in heaven's gift, most dear. 



As vain wings flying to the light of day, 
Whose most infused light is at the hand 
Of thy kingly mercy seat. 
We know that there is planted in our powers 
To give the rain of joy and still of pain. 
But at thy evening call a solace sweet, 
I take my trysting-life and ne'er complain. 



28 POETICAL CHIPS. 

THE MIST CLOUDS. 

Blow western winds, blow, 
How long does it take 

For the fair winds to break 
The news to my love, 

And the days to relate? 

I am sure they have kissed 
Her cheek, so to speak; 

The swell and the mists 

As they kiss and they roll 

Off the aesthetic contour, 

I would weigh in my bosom, 

I would usher for more. 

Great love, so pedantic, 

I would wait for thy will ; 
I've been waiting to procure 

Of a fancy or fill ; 
Without great reluctance 

I absolve to the plain. 
And again to the earth, 

But I fly in a train. 

While I dip my pen now 
—Will it ever be told?— 

To the sweet, rythmic music, 
The soul to the soul. 

And bless her dear nature. 
And bless her dear vine, 

Let its tendrils dear 
Let its tendrils twine. 

It would still gladly soar, 

Beyond friend, beyond choice, 

Who have not in their bosom 
That golden heart voice. 



POETICAL CHIPS. 29 

SNAP, SNAP, O PINE. 

Snap, snap, O pine, you are so fine, 

A medley on the kitchen hearth, 
Of shooting bars and shooting stars. 

Thy sprightly springing bears no dearth. 

We pile thee on the kitchen fire. 

In hurried glee the sparks rise higher; 

Almost as high as when thy bough 
Was given in assent and now — 

Were taller in commanding ease, 
And more the joiner's hand to please. 

And more the ax and less the stroke 

That binds all nations to the yoke 
Of mirth and pure propounding joys ; 

To man you are an easy toy. 

We build our ships of high renown. 

Our stately towers bearing down 
Upon the vision sight of those 

No truer hulk shall e'er disclose. 



Lord of the seas, Farragut, Perry, 

Drink to the hearts that maketh us merry 

Round my kitchen fire, 

And give thy vanguard — sire. 






Oft have I within the closure 
Ceased to lift the brow of care. 

Waiting for the kindly footsteps, 
For a voice — that is not there. 



30 POETICAL CHIPS. 

MY MYSTIC. 

There are technics of these 

That I know well, 
In the emblem to please 

In my story to tell. 

While I spread to the breeze, 

Of a kindly flow, 
They are currents that come, 

They are currents that e:o. 

And I oft would list 
To the evening bar. 

And I oft would gaze 
To a brighter star. 

And I look to light, 
And I seek in truth, 

While the fields are white 
In the rose of youth. 

Perchance I would look, 

And seem to fly, 
Where the soul has wings 

And never to sigh. 

I would turn to thee 

As a turtle dove, 
I would long to be free, 

And I long to love. 

I spied you out 

As a voice of mine, 

Where the word is Truth 
And the clusters twine. 

You may think that I 
Am a mite of the air, 

Or a vain regret, 

Or an earnest prayer. 



POETICAL CHIPS. 31 



But I look to you, 

And I know I am right, 
As the stars shone out 

On the evening bright. 

And you may remember, 
It was in September, 

That I may not engender, 
No less a defender. 

To my country's good, 
In dispensing of food — 

And a number of letters, 
I suppose to my betters. 

And you may know 

As the days onward flow. 
That I will not intrude, 

O no, no, no. 

But I bear a light 

To a milder breeze, 
And the ocean's flow 

From the southern seas. 

And I know you not. 
And I know you more, 

As a seabird's span 
To a distant shore. 

To the echoes roll 
And the guns galore. 

Of the bravest fleet 

Of a strong armed oar. 

* * * * 

Come, gentle sea breezes, 

As over they flow. 
Are you versed in rhythmics? 

Are you willing to know? 



Z2 POETICAL CHIPS. 

How perchance, I alight 

On a pinnacle high ; 
How to fall from my course 

It would seem that I die. 

Blow ye gay winds of September, 
Let all innocence remember, 

(I love their loves), 
I love thy dreamy faces. 

From out the clouds of lore. 

I love thy dreamy faces, 

I love thy sunny air. 
To me is meant — not discontent, 

When I shall find you there. 



THE MARTYR'S SONG. 

Over the wastes of sin that roll 
Like burning brands about the soul 
The eye of heaven's kindly light 
Awaits the pilgrim in his flight; 
And there from off the altar blessed 
The hopes of heaven's high behest. 

Embolden by the Spirit taught, 

Their deeds of earth and heaven wrought, 

Imparted by the Spirit grace, 

The love of God shone on their face, 

Still honored by the length of days 

We give them adoration, praise. 

Great God, where'er Thy race is run, 
Not one shall fall beneath the sun; 
Where'er Thy kindly light shall lead 
So shall Thy great salvation plead, 
Despite the dregs of sin that lie 
Unburied yet from mortal eye. 



POETICAL CHIPS. 33 

I BEAR TO GENTLE BREEZES. 

I bear to gentle breezes, 

I bear to sun's warm glow 
Upon the cheek of twilight 

That other hearts may know. 



I gave a radiant splendor 
To greater joys than these 

I will not stoop to compromise, 
I do not fear to please. 



The one to whom I donate this, 
The flaming warm, the rays ; 

I lay me down upon my side 
And only on thee gaze. 

From distant seas and holy plight 

And all of fear, 
Nor fear to fight. 

I love thy dreamy faces, 

I love thy sunny air ; 
To me is meant not discontent 

When I shall find you there. 



PRETTY LITTLE HUMMING BIRD. 

Pretty little hum.ming bird, 

Buzzing in the air, 
Surely, you are a theme for the fairy fair. 

Gathering sweets from the deep bluebell ; 
You are a wonder, who shall tell. 

Pretty little humming bird, you and I 

Have gathered sweets from the rose-bush by, 

And none would wonder if you couldn't sing! 
You're a handsome bird ; you pretty thing ! 



34 POETICAL CHIPS. 

IN LOVE'S SWEET BOWER AND LIFE'S 

YOUNG BLOOM. 

Sweet one I fear its cadence high 

In waves upon a coral shore, 
And could I know for this I pray 

To know thy spirit more and more. 

Attuned to depths, no night is there, 
Within my soul a trysting prayer, 
Within, a love I knew was there. 

Alone, upon a barren reef 

And not alone — with Thee I stand, 
I know thy love beyond belief 

It is not, no, a trifling thing. 



Because we bear its banners down, 

We rise into a fairer day; 
I can but give you my acclaim. 

It is as seeking far away; 
A sainted glow of heaven's light 

Appears beyond our vision sight. 

Roll out, fond clouds, and o'er the sea, 
And softly in your tendrils move 

I meet thy girlish grace to bear 

Thee o'er the mountain, o'er the tomb. 

The stars that o'er His compass move, 

O seek thou, soul — for paradise 
In love's sweet bower and life's young bloom! 



POETICAL CHIPS. 35 

THE VILLAGE URCHIN; OR, ONE CHRISTMAS 

NIGHT. 

Whi'le striding through the village street 

Uncommon, quiet, dim, 
Just where the flagging lost its way 

It was not clear to him; 
But as I reached the druggist's shop, 

Their great broad lights did show me 
A little urchin by the road; 

"Hallo there! don't you know me?" 

"O yes, I know your brother Bob, 

'Twas by a flagstone laid 
I bought a PARAGRAPH of you 

And somehow thought and prayed, 
But hadn't quite the proper change. 

Well how these winds do blow me 
Across the dark and desert night 

Hallo there! don't you know me?" 



Lord bless you something, overmuch, 

And give you more, I sigh, 
Go, build a flagging to the school. 

And try to keep it — dry. 
Old Santy's pack is full to rack. 

He's coming by and by. 
And now I'll answer to the bell. 

Hello there! don't you know me? Weill 



36 POETICAL CHIPS. 

IN SCHOOL DAYS. 

"We will take a walk to-day 

Through the woods and meadows wide"; 
Laughing buds their pinions break, 
Song of bird on every side. 



Up the hill-top, down the slope, 
By the restful cattle shade; 

Streams of beauty meet our eyes, 
Everything that God has made. 

As we pass the orchard wood, 
I^Iany years of childhood glee ; 

Pockets filled with golden fruit, 
Sounds of school-day melody. 



There, beside the large oak tree, 
Play and beauty, rose the sun. 

Morning's sunbeam painted fence 
Over which the lilacs hung. 

Oft, in stepping by the road, 
Seen the patted ground is laid ; 

Marbles rolling here and there, 
From the turret we have played. 



By the slope I shall return; 

I will pluck a little flower 
Where I watered once a tree 

Growing from a rock-bound bower. 



Happy school-day, in your glee 
May no kindly echo die, 

As I climb the rock-ribbed way, 
As I meet you in the sky. 




CO 
o 

■t-t 

u> 

(1) 

x: 



XJ 

c 



CO 



POETICAL CHIPS. zj 

BONNY BLUFF; OR, ESOPUS CREEK. 

We camped away to the north hill side, 

Where the song birds dip and the boats they glide 

And the cows that graze on the land-slope near. 

And the shining fish in the water clear, 

And the boys halloo as they splash and swim 

In the creek that flows by the white foam brim I 

And the stage that rattles through the town, 
And the church that bids you welcome down; 
And the old town clock on the stroke of four, 
And the Holland Twist of a panel door ; 
And the tall, edged rocks and the rickety stair, 
And the welcome we meet, and the kindly glare. 

On the Bonny Bluff of the Saugerties 

Are pretty nooks by twos and threes ; 

And the road leading down from the railed West Shore 

Is dotted along by many more ; 

And we hail to the day and the kindly sun, 

And the Saugerties suave and the baseball club. 

And look for a vantage such as these, 

And for cordial ways and the broad shade trees I 

And we take the boat by the evening sun. 

To the city and life with its drum, drum, drum; 

And we awake, refreshed from a good night's sleep, 

As we hail to the captain, the cook and chief 

That the darling old town is the best of all, 

And the Bonny Bluff near the mountain wall. 



38 POETICAL CHIPS. 

YE OLD PINE TREE. 

Ye old pine tree hath stood the years, 
Nor know we when thy race begun; 

And yet in all that you should lie 
Beneath our gaze— a kindly sun. 

The myrtle grew beneath thy shade, 
The happy school-boy often played, 

And looked the mariner to the shore, 
To see thy gallant mast no more. 

A comfort chart you were to us. 
As when we wandered o'er the fields, 

High up amid the branches there, 
A vision of the sunset steals. 

The man with cane has sauntered by, 
The poet's dream— the evil eye. 

No one laid axe, as though to spare 
The winds, their gentle murmur there 

And yet in all that we should mark, 
A well-known land, a favored spot, 

As when we turn our eyes with care 
To look again and see thee not. 



THE CRICKET'S SONG. 



While goodly fancies round me cling, 
I list to hear the cricket sing 

In constant strain and measured count, 
His mystic music, long-drawn out 

And mingled with his merry chime 
The airy, fleeting float of time. 



POETICAL CHIPS. 39 

THE WOOD SONG. 

I love the wood, the gentle wood, 
The stream where gentle breezes blow ; 

The sunlight beating as it should, 
The branches wafting to and fro, 

The lark, the chirp and nature's bend. 
And all the quiet of my friend. 

No early sun to pounce upon 

My castle in its noon-day glare, 
My being nurtured as it should, 

And then the shades of night are there. 
The eagle in its lofty nest 

A knight has lost his sovereignty, 
But in my might I lean upon 

God's graces, they are good to me. 

As strong, as bold as passing thought, 

I lean upon them as I ought; 
And while my spread is fit for kings, 

I traverse in the real of things ; 
The soul as pure as early dew. 

Leave kindly nature as it should ; 
I yet one day above shall soar, 

The quiet shades that greet my door. 



THE PARAGRAPH. 

A Paragraph, so bold and strong, 
For honor and for right 

Shall crush the very wrath of sin 
Beneath its wheel of might. 



40 



POETICAL CHIPS. 
TRIPLE ADMIRATION. 

By the rattle and the prattle, 

All the way down from — Seattle, 

Rode the maid and fair Cassandra 
In the elevated car. 

Maid a mere slip of creation, 

Sweet of thought and contemplation, 

Holds a great part in the nation 
By the heart that's ruled by love. 

Maid that lifts her eyes to sunlight, 
"Pretty!" echoed fair Cassandra— 

"Pretty!" echoed my rejoinder. 

For I wonder — who had coined her? 

Pretty! in her lips so parted. 

Strength of thought and fine of action, 

Nature in no deep contraction, 
"Noble soul of womanhood." 

Find we this in percolation. 
To the waxen tapering fingers. 

Pretty so, to my rejoinder. 

Praise and love and health annoint her. 

•ate^ «*!•> Z^i^ 

^^ -^IB* ^<«* 

Value passes numeration, 

Love is sweet in contemplation. 
So it is in love's relation. 



POETICAL CHIPS. 41 

THE BANJO PLAYER. 

The banjo player is versed in fine arts 

In rolling his cigarette, 
His eyes askance, 

Or wishing for some fine play, 
His tuneful harp, his excellencies alway 

Are to the devil's music of fine sound, 
His heart would seek in some fine land — renown. 

He twangs his useless tunes in bar-rooms 

Or outside, his well blacked shoes 
Are at the sidewalk's tips. 

His bliss of heart when he is in society grand 
To bear a roundelay, while Time's sweet sands 

Are flowing on; his purse is never filled, 
His disengagement ever proves no ill. 

Encore his soulful music through the play, 
His homeward bound seeks dawn of day; 

His call before the curtain is too soon. 
To disengage his famous coming moon. 

Perchance he finds his heaven in the air; 

His banjo is his God, to him there's none elsewhere. 



i*j^ ^;*i i?j5i 

•^t^^ -^I'Cv ^5'i^>> 



'Tis not for thee I love to tell 

The murmurs in the hidden swell ; 

'Tis not for thee — the seas that roar, 
And beat us farther from the shore. 



42 POETICAL CHIPS. 

ECHOES. 

I met you at the Fair, 

Your manner bore the queenly air; 
I love — now — I loved there ! 

And many suns have winged upon 
Its rounded course of stenciled fame; 

But in a tuft of rifted moss, 
I bear to beauty's shrine a name. 

A name that I have given naught, 
Or mumbled to the rated crowd ; 

A name that writes itself upon 

A thousand echoes loud and strong. 

I woo you as the lion heart, 

And shall not turn a kindly eye, 

Although the meteors fly like hail. 
Between a parent's part and I. 

I bear no thought to recompense 

That which of earth is freely given; 

I am a sponsor on the way. 

The most directive unto heaven. 

I have no reason to complain, 
A letter that had come so late, 

As to refuse another's ears 
Had been the ruin of my fate. 

I took it as a grateful gain. 

My heart could not object to prove 
So unoffended in my name. 

I could not stem the ring-waves strong, 
That rose in early golden tints ; 

I am the same as yesterday, 

Methinks so e'er I break in splints. 



POETICAL CHIPS. 43 

Of hopes renewed, of springs of late, 
That rise unfaltering from a source 
As pure, immaculate, as great. 

Of late, and yet alone I prove 

My dearest thoughts, survey of health, 
To what on earth I can give o'er, 

I hold obeisance to myself. 

'Tis well known that I cannot give 
What in a manner might be shorn. 

By all the leaves— of love's rebuke, 

Whose eyes ne'er turn to ruddy morn. 

The age of life's affections free 

Is wrought within ourselves, if right ; 

No one can bless it more to thee 
Than I can bear it in its might. 

To fold the leaves — an open book — 

Is garland in its stamp of truth. 
With me, the stronger deign to fight, 

With! thee, the sunny air of youth. 

Perchance are riven lines too deep. 

Not so, if but the light is given ; 
To hope and faith in kindly lays. 

Much less, where is a right more striven. 

No one can fail in high remark. 

To grasp the early flecks of sun, 
That breathing so, as one in heart, 

As noble strength, as Tennyson. 

From depths to heights, 

I yet shall rise 
Beyond what transient thought denies, 

The ways and paramount of pelf. 



44 POETICAL CHIPS. 

I cannot pass my eyes to roam, 

The pleasant fields, the nest of flowers. 
But that alone in pleasant tune, 

A chiming, aught, shall swell our powers. 



As throbs within a nobler breast ; 

"If such there be, go mark him well," 
My shadow ne'er shall cross your path. 

To cause more doubt these words I tell. 



I bear it as the morning dies, 

In brighter ways of noon-day sun ; 

Be it the way of Providence, 
I cause no useless tears to shun. 



Nor tears they be when all of fate. 
Is nurtured in the hand of ours. 

Upon what shall another prate 

Of gladder suns and brighter hours. 



I love yet, nor fear to tell. 

But only to you I shall tell 

When I can look in blue eyes fair 
And read their tones ineffable. 



I hold for you a rest that lies 

Not all in tones of silver speech ; 

A depth of passion holds more ties 
To that in truth, it oft would preach. 

'Tis sw^ayed my being to the core, 
Your light and buxom gentle ways, 

I oft have placed it in the height 
Beyond the beauty of my gaze. 



POETICAL CHIPS. 45 

And yet when I survey my lot, 

My plot of ground, my hopes so fair, 

I cannot deem 'tis all of heaven, 
In building castles in the air. 

But yet I prove my record good, 

Of no peculiar air so fine. 
That giveth noting to a man, 

Before the years he reaches prime. 

Eleven threes are just the sum 
That gives the rating to his ease. 

Of which his thoughts are open to 

The blue eyes that shall nurture these. 

What drumheads to his wilful store, 

That beat upon his strand of time. 
As hopes that brighten, they are more 

Than man can jingle in his rhyme. 

A generous heart can ever beat, 

As to your own it would respond, 
In giving what it e'er would speak, 

Caresses that would oft resound. 

I fear I am so ill of fate. 

And to be fated means so free 
That I can offer in my store 

An only preference to thee. 

Astounding mimicry of fate, 

That would not let me to you gaze. 

If that you think to beat the foot — 
In higher accents it will raise. 

And I will give unto my queen 

The knowledge that I know is best ; 
I love the sweet angelic gleams 

That warms alway so warm a breast 



46 POETICAL CHIPS. 

Broad bosom of the swelling deep, 
What more have they of life to give ! 

Whose stars and satellites bear round 
In confidence that bids me live. 

And so I turn my thought to thee, 
And so because I love best, 

Because the curfew of the moor. 

Must soon e'er bid my breathing rest. 

If that in you I cannot find 

To which I know I feel, 
The flaming fire that has wrought, 

Nor bid my stay-ed soul to reel. 

Only the gentle tone I bring, 
I am not fearless in my fate. 

Though I have enrolled my name upon 
My gift to Country and to State. 

These lines I dedicate to thee, 

My only love of strand. 

If that I fail to cherish thee, 
I yet may seek that Fatherland. 

America shall give us hope, 

To thee and those that all may bring 

A goodly blessing to my door. 

While you are queen and I am king. 

King of my thoughts, my ways, my plans, 
King of my Title role and self; 

Lest I should feel myself so small, 
A crumb upon the lower shelf. 

And so I bring my thoughts to thee. 
Within the space that giveth power, 

I scarcely seem to lift my pen 
Unto the index of the hour. 



POETICAL CHIPS. 47 

But you shall know if that you choose, 
What dwells within the human heart; 

Its thoughts are running unto seas, 

In all that your own self have wrought. 

Your only choice, your maidenhood, 

Inestimable as is its faith, 
In princely forms and bluest blood, 

In all you have your right to choose. 

In many a year of pleasure round, 

And yet so certainly I stand, 
While outer, on the inner, ground. 

In deference, 'tis the sage's mind, 

In firmness; in a parent's wing; 
Come, little one; my only thought, 

Have I no further right to sing? 

Then cease my lays, and cease their ring 

That bids and promises but fair 
To bound e'er snows, from spring to spring 

I wish you well, true happiness. 
As beaming blessings round you shine ; 

I can but give more strength to this 
That you are fitter in your time. 

To judge what are the days that pass, 
To give them credence as they roll. 

But never will your inner light. 
E'er be surpassed in all that's soul. 

Transcending grace is given you, 

To seek what satisfies you best, 
A greater force can but arouse 

A mere suspicion in your breast. 



48 POETICAL CHIPS. 

Forbid that I should seek in truth 
To meditate upon your way; 

I deem thy joys are all that's fair, 
That giveth gladness to the day. 

And so I think I soon will cease, 
To give my lay in lighter strain ; 

Were I not truthful in my thought, 
I ne'er would hope to come again. 

Then ease my way, my hopes are bland, 
I write on bars of shifting sand; 

And yet I fear in doing so 

I may at times appear too rude. 

In thoughts — anticipations — great 
We reach the oft familiar strain, 

And yet if there be truth in love, 

These joys should ever make them plain. 

But duty bound to what is right. 
Who yet can see no vista train, 

Or thought but what reflects the light 
Upon the strongholds of the main. 

In deference, to you I bring 

In love and hope, and joy to all, 

And yet were I to delve in plight, 
I yet may see a feather fall. 

I draw a line in its descent, 

A golden rim — a diamond here — 
Shall garland all the passing year. 

Let hopes be bright and hearts be gay. 
In prisms of new rapture run, 

We yet shall have our bosom sway, 

Whose hearts and hopes to virtues run ! 



POETICAL CHIPS. 49 

SEAR NOT A BETTER PAGE. 

Sear not a better page 

To darkness, yet unknown 

In the deep unfathomable 

Abyss — of strolling inconstancy; 

For this shall surely make you wise 

That you cannot despise the end 

Of your own nature, strewn to dregs, 

"Of things not unattempted yet 

In prose or rhyme." 

No passion droops this brow, 
While like a paltry slave 
In full confession now. 

Turn ye, O thoughts of men ! 

To crimes and deeds of night? 

Making the horrors shriek 

With whimperings of the mundane — design 

A Rhymster's — prayerless plaintive whimperings. 

STRIKE! STRIKE! STRIKE! 

Strike! strike! strike! 

For your altars and your fires," 
Strike ! strike ! strike ! 
From the world and its desires. 



Strike ! strike ! strike ! 
With a purpose still in view ; 
Lead a light to virtue now, 
And strike! strike! strike! 



Strike when the morning looms its head ; 
Strike, for its blessings share your bread ; 
Strike that your yearning thoughts be read, 
While you strike ! strike ! strike ! 



(I 



50 POETICAL CHIPS. 

THE CRITIC'S CRITICISM. 

Good men of all known prayers by stealth, 

I wish you brave in 3^our good health ; 

I find no truer songs reproof 

Than that your joys, are in your youth. 

Upon what theme I choose to write, 

Let all commotion cease with strife. 

I call to charm a little ditty 

Of country round, or of your city. 

"It seems in judgment's narrowed hall 

Man writes but little to recall" ; 

In faith, v/hat's wrote is seldom heard, 

But by some Critic often blurred 

In placing judgment all hereafter 

j\Iay change the winds of Madagascar. 

Too old, too obsolete a ghost 

As failed to charm your reason most; 

Exchange it, then, and with my peers 

Do cherish what for future years 

May be an inkling, bold or clever. 

Perhaps from jolt (my poste haste) sever; 

I hold because you have much wit, 

You know, or did you copy it? 

Some Chaucer, Iliad, of the hour, 

Or revel in mirth, in Suckling's bower; 

But vain the lowly mind, to please. 

The humble saint is on his knees; 

Or what, in knowing dimmer things. 

Or thinks in knowin.o:, thus he sino;-s. 



POETICAL CHIPS. 5i 

Sweet Daniel, in his stepping-stones, 
Has more of virtue than his bones. 
Who fears no idle thought to flight 
Between the muse and that be night; 
Whose grasp of thoughts no visions mend, 
In hopes, in actions, Popes or pens, 
A leading light is ever new, 
And to the Christian ever true. 



If Christian Presbyter, or Scot, 

Or right belief, we care not what 

In differences, some may say: 

Then let him worship his own way. 

Call faith's allotment kind repose. 

What's true of him, the kind he sows, 

If you don't think it bold or clever. 

Then blame yourself, or blame the weather. 

A Critic's bump will often find 

He relishes another mind ; 

At least of some things, so to say, 

He looks for bombast — or his pay. 

A frown is given with a will 

To raze the action, gain the hill ; 

But best I deem it none to sever. 

It is the same as best the giver; 

Although we deem he ought to know 

His readers are his Critic's foe ! 

For, suffer everything to oblivion : 

The last will be the theme of Trivian, 

Or He who comes upon the earth 

On clouds, to quench all foolish mirth. 

It may, or may be no disaster 



52 POETICAL CHIPS. 

That Critics live forever after, 
Then roll their wealth in Heaven's Isle ; 
Such Sage opinions! worth a pile. 
But when, in weighing truths, to all 
May well revert to great St. Paul, 
Or if 'tis not authority, 
May better some higher Deity. 
But from the better, good and worse, 
They certainly will find their place; 
Enchanting strains, melodious sounds! 
Methinks I hear the words resound 
Of bold-tongued ballads, rouged by fame. 
Upon where sate the laurel sage. 
Administered, though the Angel's fall, 
Thy gift in fee was not for all 
The multitude of men below ; 
It is a boon that minds may grow ; 
That they who teach are taught of men. 
Or think that ye are framed of Gods? 
In mind's estate who boldly soar. 
Who lifts the liquid's soft-toned oar, 
(And so of this I've said before). 
Who thinks this measure is quite simple. 
To revel most, or paint a dimple; 
For, were I weary with the pen : 
Could easy take it up again 
What wrote in so divine a call ; 
I tap my head and bring in all ; 
So glorious Milton's standard fine, 
I draw, in joints, of Shakepeare's rhyme. 
Of goodly Prior, so astute — 
^ I have some goodly things to boot. 



POETICAL CHIPS. 53 

And Ovid too, whose amorous call 
Plave dashed my bon mots to the wall. 
And Homer, too, though long delayed. 
Of course, we now must bid him sage. 
Whence grew all virtues to the touch 
In heathen lands? Think you so much? 
Which does recall to all I say. 
The last is the completer way. 
What needs Sweet Tennyson to soar 
What's gone is good, is gone before. 
Why revel Keats, conceptions bound, 
Dissected by the clamored crowd; 
Or Jean Paul Richter's cause instill, 
His ghost now breathes, impassioned thrill. 
Of Goldsmith, Isis, Blair and Brun, 
Or roll the Greeks in, one by one? 
What of the Sage decree and more 
That wraps in love America's shore, 
Is truth, more potent to incline 
The greater or the following time. 
And though we strive no cancellation, 
We strive bereft! the greatest nation! 
If maudlin song be wise, or clever. 

It is just what it can discover: 

A few days drawing to a close, 
A Bryant's soft, assured repose; 
And Longfellow, nor short of wit, 
As old Walt Whitman may see fit. 
And just a few more, to disclose. 
We do not stoop to common prose. 
Then fill the urn, the good, nor ill 



/ 



S4 POETICAL CHIPS. 

May follow whosoever will ; 

If that they deem to please or blame, 

Comparisons can feed no flame. 

If that in truth the right be wrought, 

The Angeles-in-truth be taught; 

But Beau and Brown, while Smith 's in town. 

Is music to all hands profound. 

And so, to find the better way, 

Get on your knees, you Critics, pray. 

Pray that a just God should deliver 

Your soul from spleen, or fall in river; 

Or do some awkward thing, or that. 

That is becoming, or more pat; 

Or doubt and say, your judgment errs 

In mixing human ways with hers — the muse. 

Perhaps, MacFlecknoe can help you out, 

Or Shadwell's genius make you spout! 

Perhaps a Chloe or Celia gay; 

Perhaps, or would they bid you — nay 

Pound Burns ! You publishers are smart, 

(Oft get the horse before the cart) ; 

A word left out, a verse more spelled 

Would ship a Critic's muse to — Kell. 

Of much, of little, this or that, 

You could not beautify a bat. 

Now spreads majestic's snowy wing. 

Now birds leap forth, in carols sing; 

Now charms the muse to evening's ray, 

Now wings my phantom far away. 

Out peep the stars, his glory zone 

Is ever for his bride alone! 

On comes the change of night severe, 



POETICAL CHIPS. 55 

And beasts and birds are hoveled near ; 
Pale ray, the moon shines overhead, 
Each ray incased more ruddy red, 
And clouds are dimmed by evening's close, 
Soft eve, light wanes to soft repose. 



* 



I have not said so much, ho ! ho ! 

Of Robert Burns, or honest Poe, 

Except, well, well, we'll let that pass. 

We know, we know : he liked the lass, 

But did not like his verse to pass, 

Except 'twas Robert in the theme 

To which, or what his failings lean, 

I do aver, by all that's sense, 

I hope he has sweet recompense. 

I hope his words were rightly spun 

In wav-ed strain, no stain upon 

The passions, unaffected will 

That holds to all integrity, still 

Though you may think One would revere 

To place a critic's pointer here? 

No, no, no, no, by fits or turns. 

One would not do e'en so by Burns; 

But, let Burns burn his fires out: 

The man is greater than the lout. 

John Dryden, in his critic spell, 

Would storm old Satan back to hell. 

And Pope w^ould not defer the chance 

To score the devil — prance and prance — 

Which seems to be a flame, or pother, 

That seems to be his due or other. 

How should a critic eventuate 



56 POETICAL CHIPS. 

From paganism, of Homer's state? 

Plow should this learned whitened sage 

Turn o'er our cons now, page by page? 

He ought to have a piercing eye 

To see from whence these tidings fly. 

If he can know w^hose bow is bent, 

If he, his washes, are intent 

To know the man's still undertow^ 

To give his angel-pleading so. 

What manner to what riddle born 

Has man to any hopes forlorn? 

If man could listen once a week, 

And try and hear his conscience speak. 

And then have writ it so by rule ; 

We would not need the — critic's fool ! 

The Critic's conscience comes at last 

To circumvent and swell the blast. 

Know how he reasons : That is right ! 

So that he see the inner light ! 



I do not want here to propose: 
Wliat does he see? — 

Lord only knows ! 

IN ASSENT. 

I have no way in which to spare 
My kind precaution, so my prayer 
Is given to assent, I send 
This simple message to my friend. 



POETICAL CHIPS. 57 

IN MEMORY, L . 

When o'er my life the shadows gently fleeting, 

And sorrow bears her burden to the tomb, 

My heart would fain return its day of weeping, 

Did not on yonder path the sunlight loom 

More radiant than the stars at night ; a watch is keeping 

O'er those entrusted to Thy care, 

To doubt would seem to snap the chains asunder, 

But then — a voice is there ! 



Around thy life no fruitless days can number. 

You were my friend, I found you so ; 

For with each day thy heart and love entwining, 

I felt thy ruddy cheek and manly glow. 

I would not mold a heart less strong unceasino- 

Though through Thy saddening end the sorrows felt, 

I know if Thou in life were press-ed to my bosom. 

Thy sorrows like mine own would melt. 

But we have passed the days where tears are needed. 

But yet for those whose earthly life be cast 

While still among the thorns, the roses— 

A perfume 'round thy life be cast. 

And yet the heart may cherish— in its waking. 

As days more cheeringly pass by, 

W^e still shall view thee with the number 

Wliose spirits dwell with God on high. 



58 POETICAL CHIPS. 

TALMADGE. 

GREAT TEACHER, PROPHET, 

By whose majestic sway 

The sweep of worlds, 

All glorious into space, 

We still revere the truth 

In thy embrace, 

"In life, oh death! 

Where is thy sting" — 

Such triumphs 

To thy marchings bring. 

Hero of God's own peace, 

And God's own light; 

Stalwart beyond all calumny of wrong. 

How oft we listened to thy 

Tuneful songs, relay of truth ! 

That mighty ages still survive 

The new awakening. 

Hushed by the majesty 

Of thy most loved power, 

Who wills of God that such 

Shall with him dwell! 

Ministering the ever new born light 

Triumphant in thy peace and praise ! 

Who chooseth thy course ! 'tis well. 



POETICAL CHIPS. 59 

IDEALITY. 

When thy beauty is commending 
Naught of guile within the heart, 
May we hear thy gentle music, 
Beating flakelets as you dart? 
If we lift our eyes to greet thee, 
Shall no future fancy sped, 
Tossing joy of fames to-morrow, 
Roses white above our head. 

If we nestle, pure thy bosom. 
Shall a fairer image rise, 
Than the harvest fields of glory, 
Hungry souls should not despise? 
Shall thy pride, O buoyant river, 
Richly flowing, full and free. 
Bear our sheaves within the reaping. 
Far beyond the silent sea. 

Shall the sound of gentle music, 
In the summit of the song, 
Bear a dewdrop to the valley, 
Of thy rushing waters on? 
If thy love, so pure, and tender, 
We will sail with none but thee, 
In the reaping of the crystals 
Far beyond the silent sea. 



6c POETICAL CHIPS. 

THE MISSION. 

We thought to start a mission over there, 
Where faith and all availing prayer 
Would not condole the sinner in his sleep, 
Nor cause regret his lurid eyes to weep, 
Except it be for what beyond the grave, 
A timely penitence would save. 

To be well curbed within ourselves be wrought 

A mighty work surpassing thought; 

It shall be ours and then to grow. 

Into the work — God loves us so. 

While yet within the mortal man 

His joys and pleasures yet to span. 

Some came as though they knew, some — all, 

As Pompey great before the fall. 

And the pagan heart, who worships least. 

Finds the mission of Christ is the mission of peace; 

And while we worked in wind and weather 

We kept love's torch a-burning, ever. 

DIDACTIC. 

Man is spiritual, and if you don't develop your spir- 
itual nature, you will die like a dog. 




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POETICAL CHIPS. 6i 

CHILDHOOD. 

Pass me back, O gentle childhood, 

Give not anger to reproof; 
Just enough in gentle tappings. 

Like the raindrops on the roof. 

Now a child in simple slumber, 
Kindly viewed and gently tread ; 

'Tis a vision of my mother, 
Bending o'er my trundle bed. 

And I scarcely will awaken, 

Though I know her kindly care 
Is the keeping of her baby 

Free from sin and guileful air. 

I can see the adoration 

That is written on her face; 
I can feel the years reclining 

To a smothered kiss, embrace. 

Kiss away the tear at noon-day, 

Kiss away the tear at night; 
To the angels, pure and holy, 

List those kisses back to-night. 



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It cannot be that we are born with affection, eter- 
nally to die 



62 POETICAL CHIPS. 

A POET'S JOLT. 

Sweet toned rhyme, cadence low, 

Just such cadence should be so, 
Winds of the ever sweeping rise and fall, 

Covering such meters as the sweet rain-fall. 

I took my site by the billow wave. 

Where stars lashed kisses by the sunken cave, 

And I either knew; or I didn't know Dot, 
With tremor as great, and blood as hot. 

For the fellow he knew the heathen was great 
Who measured his lines by a fifty foot tape; 

That is why in such batter proof gall 

We can hit the mark when we give in all ! 

I took my rhymes to a kind, old seer, 

But he knew rather more of the temperance gear, 
And another fine fellow, way up, or so, 

He was great for himself, but for me he was slow. 

He cut my deep cadence to a minimum length, 
What he gained in space, he lost in strength ; 

He followed the practice of Darius of old. 
Preferred to be led in the heathen mould ! 

He talked of his own great airy flight, 
The more I thought my specimen right; 

For the fellow that knew all about his own rhymes 
Kept gingerly in my head — betimes. 

One said as for money there would be none for me 
(As poetry was a drug on the market Sea) ; 

But I said as a critic there would be none for he! 



POETICAL CHIPS. 63 

Another would arrange to fix my verse 

With the exchange of gold — (to make it terse) ; 

And another would hardly allow three nouns 
To stand in the depths of my deep profounds. 

So I brought it to a publisher great, 

Who had some compassion and some elate 

Who knew something about rhyme, himself, 'twas said, 
And as words proclaimed, and as words he read. 



So from hill down country and high end pace 

All ride a hobby to win the race; 
And my jolt is not another man's jolt 

Thought a jolt may seem to the crowd the same. 

But I guess when my steed comes in to try: 
My jolt will be felt — or the reason, why! 



IN THE DEEP UNFATHOMABLE. 

When on my bold Supernal course 
I drop the oars and close the gates 

That bid no longer me to war 

With disappointments, cares and fates. 

When from my tall and top-most tower 
I view the kindness of the hour, 

(And babble they whose hopes are seen 
Beyond no verdure of the green). 



My soul shall flight where'er it leads 

(While on that cortege — borne by steeds) ; 

When I shall rise above the sod 
And bear my betterments to God ! 

Shall there be vain and bickered power 
To lend such service to the hour. 



64 POETICAL CHIPS. 

SURVEILLANCE OF RIGHT. 

Some say that we should cease to strive, 

And shun the right 
Of nature's onward looking unto God, 

Whence flows the Appian way, 
The intellectual stream 

As chariots roll along the upward way. 
The clouds that lift their downy fleece to God. 

I look upon the art of man's device, 
The greatest hypocrisy of the hour. 

Who canter in their running mould of self, 
"Leave reason to the dogs of physic power." 

Perchance we reckon far too small, 
To please the eye, the viscid crowd, 

Who startle all that little world of self, 

A dormant knack of making things grotesque. 

To babble of the ill, despoil of time. 
And give no strengthening in the cause 

Of honor's worth, and manly surveillance 
In the right. 

Who points the eye of scorn on those 
Who in their care load lifts the night. 

From off the shoulder of their weaker kin. 
Nor turn to scorn, nor give offence. 

For tender passion's sway, 

To fight ! no truer braves have met the steel. 
And they have always fought the best, 
Who first know how to feel ! 



POETICAL CHIPS. 65 

OCEAN RIPPLE. 

Gently flow, ocean ripple, 

Lightly o'er the sea. 
Cherished hopes of fond ambition, 

Bring them back to me. 
Long I wait beside the fountain, 

Pebbles at my feet. 
But I long for richer treasure, 

Woven Spirit, sweet. 

****** 

Happy dreamlight flowing free 

Through the woods resounding; 
Bring some echoes back back to me 

Of thy truth expounding. 
Love and light of other days, 

Kind familiar faces; 
Hope in memories kindly glow 

Bring them back to me. 

Rib-crest rock and shifting sand. 

Azure covered mountain, 
Open up the better w^ay 

Show the crystal fountain. 
Heaven's watchman of the soul 

Guard my peace forever, 
Till I reach the golden strand 

Just beyond the river. 



66 POETICAL CHIPS. 

THE INVITATION. 

O come and spend a quiet hour withal 

And dwell within his holy temple walls; 
The hour is late so long that you have strayed 

From pastures green where nurture's sunlight played. 
Come now, you cannot stay — the hasty years apace 

Yet there is mercy in the bosom of his grace 
That shall sustain and keep the soul 

From onward wreak of sin's wild tempest stroll. 

Beat gently, drops, on sands of wasted years, 
And cease to fill, O cup of bitterness and tears ; 

Refrain thy goodness not, O Lord, but send , 
Love's keen rebuke unerring arrow's end. 

Their morn shall greet the noon of twilight scene, 

So may thy Constance plead, and will be done 

That through all life they may abide 
The chalice of thy eventide. 

Then cast your burden at His feet 

And lay beside your good intention's greet, 

His love delights to cheer you as his child 

Not all of other years shall more be blessed than 
these. 

Or give more praise in worship that is due, 

For God in his all wise and glorious plan ' 

Invites to share His fellowship with man. 



i 



POETICAL CHIPS. 67 

SAUGERTIES. 
(Old Lovely Town.) 

Old lovely town, 

Before I meet the brim, 
Where joys went round. 

Thy cadence swung 

In many a near retreat, 
The glory of ye olden time complete. 

We find upon the mound, 

Of tall colonial pillar. 
Famed in yore, 

Where all thy ruling patriots 
Breathed before. 

The lisping air 
Of freedom o'er the peak 

As birds that heavenward soar. 
Or eagles shriek. 

Above the morn and hill. 

Tossed into dawn. 
We see the old time battlements 

Like shocks of corn. 

No more thy peaceful 

Slumber o'er the lee 
Still strives within its Spirit 

More and more. 
Belabored cares that cities bring — 

"They hope to have a trolley 
In the Spring." 



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Kindly hope, from sun to sun, 
Do your duties — one by one. 



68 POETICAL CHIPS. 

THE DRUMS OF BABEL. 

You cannot change me, Vere de Vere, 
Your aspen lips are cherry red; 

Now oft beside their hollow glow 
There sits a sentinel instead. 

You bid me look on women fair, 
Again to look you bid me weep, 

As through the shadows of the air, 
I feel an aspen tremor creep. 

Your heart may beat in merriment, 
''Your eyes be homes of silent prayer." 

But now I seek another face, 

No dread, weird phantom of the air. 

The pitch of passion's wicked sway — 
Has swept the veiling from my heart. 

And though I feel my inmost soul, 
I seem to see thee as thou art. 

I yet have nothing to condole, 
A passing ship, a shopper's maid 

Whose soul does beat a humming tune. 
Along from heaven to the glade. 

A bird may fly, a bee may sip 

Sweet honey from a wayside flower, 

But what I feel is not the sting. 
That giveth sunlight to the hour. 

I know a charm where sits the dew, 
Upon a strong pedestalled breast 

No vain leaved shadows beating through 
Its battlement, through kind caressed. 



POETICAL CHIPS. 69 

As dark as light again I see 

This gleam of sunlight beating through, 
Your heart had more of this — of mine — 

Than early morning drinketh dew. 

I hear the raging tempest beat 

Along the raving of the shore, 
And though I love not less of thee, 

I love my ideal muse the more. 

So hghtly met we bid farewell 

A newly whirring of the breeze; 
I hear the echoes loudly swell, 

Far up beyond the elm trees. 

We know that in the sunlight glow 

There wreathes a yearning in the breast, 

Its satellites can only know 
The deeper color in the west. 

''Their eyes are homes of silent prayer" 
Whose nearing vision pierces through 

The distant scenes — of other hearts 
Yet holds the goodness, and the true. 

As in the Samaritan art. 

Oblivious of pain, 
To stop the issue of the wound — 

The brooklet leaps again. 

New life and gratitude we bring. 

To those whose inmost soul. 
Where but the touching of the spring, 

The drums of Babel roll. 



70 POETICAL CHIPS. 

Far up beyond ethereal heights 
Are higher heig'hts to soar, 

We shall not falter, through the play- 
Be deeply lined and poor. 

Then light the fires and fill the vat, 

'Tis only plain to see, 
It is not vain in goodly thought. 

The charm of mystery. 

Who dives beneath the dark world's dross, 

As emeralds yet to find. 
Or oft his derelicts reflect, 

The motive of the mind. 

Yet not to pose but catch as can 

In guise of evils through, 
A blending with the Turkish clan. 

As oft our failings do. 

For what are words, but to express 

The hidden soul we feel. 
The truth that sitteth on the dome — 

Nor makes our actions real. 

The acts, the doings that be right, 

A tender mother's tear — 
Now gone, but yet we see the light 

In yonder face appear. 

A face, Madonna, so to say, 

A face. Madonna, kind ; 
The active working soul within. 

The motive of the mind. 



POETICAL CHIPS. 71 

As homes where children love to dwell, 

The windows of the soul, 
The heart's compulsion, and again 

The drums of Babel roll. 

No vain deceit of passions blow, 

Yet unassuming grand, 
The true blue of the ocean's flow, 

Their beat upon the sand. 

No stranded depths of torture toil 

Upon so fine a sea, 
Where mirth brings music to the thought 

The deep its purity. 

I bring to thee, O fair Louise, 

And though the road be rough, 
The emeralds of the Pleiades, 

The laughter in my cup. 

And you shall sit beside the stream. 

Its brow and flowing brim 
Shall open wide unto the day 

From whence it floweth in. 

These veins of blue in courses through 

So mild a mystic chart. 
Shall point the way to heaven's view. 

And show thee as thou art. 

The ringlet rays of summer sun 

Shall mingle with the breeze. 
And far from off thy vision roll 

The wideness of the seas. 



72 POETICAL CHIPS. 

And tresses of a warmer hue 

Shall not deceive the heart; 
Thy lips shall adulate, so true, 

I see thee as thou art. 

I see thee, Austen, as the dew, 

The gentle summer rain ; 
A child of nature peering through 

The sunlight streams again. 

And though your eyes ne'er fear to rove 

Of dark impassioned mood, 
My heart shall adulate thy praise 

To all that seemeth good. 



Dear Austen, for I have no fears, 

That soul is like the dew. 
That mirrors in a wide expanse, 

The guileless gates of blue. 

And so as one the heart shall speak, 
And so as one, so shall we seek 

The self same sky of blue. 

Beholding in each other's eyes — 

The goodness and the true ! 

ON THE BRIDGE. 

The willows bow in graceful mien. 
Her lips are pretty to be seen; 

Perceptive in their ease and flow — 
The dancing waters there below. 




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POETICAL CHIPS. 73 

RURAL INDEPENDENCE. 

You may still have a heart, 

You may still bear a hand 
Though you live serene 

In a country town. 
You may still have a vision, 

O ! so grand ! 
As you stand on the top 

Of a rising mound. 



You may still have a view 

That enables you, 
That will rise to bless you 

The whole way through. 



You may scorn display 

And the city street. 
If your soul is pure 

And your spirit sw^eet, 
And your wants are few. 

And you bear to smile. 
And listen for God's footsteps 

All the while." 



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You may dim conceit 
By your guileless sway, 

But the Lord He knows 
Who to Him would pray; 

And your themes 

Are your rights — alway. 



THE DIVERSITIES. 



In a Christian Land, but Heathens bow down to 
Wood and Stone. 



74 POETICAL CHIPS. 

TWILIGHT. 

When dusty twilight falls upon the morning, 
And nature is so gently roused from sleep, 

It is then I seem to hear the far-off echoes 

Of a song wave's lingering murmur at my feet. 

*Tis transcending in its higher thrall above me 
'Tis encircled in my bosom, this I know, 

For a maiden lifts her deep blue eyes to know me, 
It were better love in truth should have it so. 

It is marshalled in its care unto the noon-day. 
It is breathing sweet unselfish and unsung, 

It will hold in gentle balance to the sweet sway, 
Just the nectar that two lives be truly one ! 

I can oflfer in my pride to be not faithless, 
I cannot perceive a murmur ebbing low; 

'Tis the high tide flow of life's returning 
To its own sweet sunlight flow! 

EQUIVOCALLY. 

So strange is the voice I loved so well; 

Of love or fate — I cannot tell ; 
But I know 'tis a sound that thrills my soul 

With the fear, with the doubt of a tale untold. 

And something is seen in the dark-lashed eyes 
That promises me no glad surprise, 

For love concealed can hold no part 

With the love of an ardent, misplaced heart. 

Another's pride may deck thy spread, 
Thy jeweled hand, thy queenly head; 

But life, who knows how to dispose 

Of the blessings and joys we might repose? 



'j(i POETICAL CHIPS. 

SNOWBIRDS. 

I love the snowflakes as they fall 
Beyond the downs of Riverdall; 

So pure, so white, so fleet they be, 

'Twould seem to cherish love and thee. 

Or some compassion's deep redound, 
Upon the shimmering script or mound; 

Or solace sweet where'er is found 
(In similitude of thee). 

Of time's sweet rushing, nor despair, 

As laden on the cool, calm air, 
I find no such love anywhere. 

Of faith and buxom to be free, 

O might that fill the soul of thee, 
At least I deem it part of me. 

That I should hold askance who knows 

The line of duty and the blows. 
So cool environed with the snows. 

So pure environed, pure, so sweet. 

The happy childhood's tripping feet 
Shall scarcely whither; shall we meet. 

To crush, to battle blind despair. 
To find a salient pleasure there 
Beyond the earth and its compare. 

Beyond the roll of city street. 

In quiet shades of thought we meet, 
Know I, O more still, to repeat. 



POETICAL CHIPS. 

Of paths though trod yet not in vain, 

A wide expanse o'er hill and plain, 
And still do I not come again. 

To come again to all ithat's right 

A wanderer where uncertain night 
Has caused no cadence to a plight. 

If that it be, I am the same, 

Of sorrow added to my name. 
And many nooks where laughter came. 

Of babbling brooks and seamy sod 
I chose my nearest near thy God, 
Above the hills of Avignon. 

I listen to a kindly sway 

That peals to morning's light of day, 
So ushered in with music ray. 

The jingling bush of lilac round 

The slate that tippled to the ground ; 
The banging noise went round and round. 

That I should eppostulate of thee. 
And many vergings yet to see; 
I wonder would your kith agree? 

Or care not in so mild repose 

We oft may miss what no one knows: 
What if a fellow should propose? 

Propose within himself the right 
To die or do it, phase or fight, 
Alas, is it beyond my sight. 



78 POETICAL CHIPS. 

Were I so weak as to despair 

A mere imbibe of country air; 
Yet some things, all things may be fair! 

And partly ushered with a sigh 

Release kind action or deny 
That comforts come we pass them by. 

And owing to no calm regret — 

We still may see a beacon yet, 
So fraught with laughter's bubbling jet. 

To expound in that great word love, 

It cons its goodness from above; 
I call while still a turtle dove. 

I venture, too, upon the stays 

That give recounting of the days, 
So long I lift my endless praise. 

And if not I, were in the right, 
I fain must be a prototype, 
A groping round in endless night. 

I give not vim to vain despair. 

And yet I still would take me there 
Where proud respect has greater share. 

Or less, at least, would loose my trend 

Of grace and beauty, O my friend 
Is kinship not a greater blend? 

Of goodly nurture to the vine ; 
That I be living unto thine. 



POETICAL CHIPS. 79 

The storms, the heat, the melting snows, 

The orbs 'that osculate repose, 
That conflicts never-moving rows. 

We pass the beauty as we fly. 
We fly not only as we sigh. 
We catch the music by and by. 

To duty and to guard your own ; 
It is of love, thus I have shown 
It is a heaven or a throne. 

Because I deem shall not annoy 

That giveth nurture in a boy, 
A kindly knit is more than toy. 

I sanction in my early dreams, 

And yet my discontentment seems 
To cherish aught your eyes their beams. 

I know, know, know I, nothing more 

Were ready caution so at store. 
And grand respect is so much more. 

I deem it O so very kind. 

Though be it of another mind, 
I know the sterling thought of thine. 

Is natural, nature in its flow 

Of ease, I fain would tell you so 
Be it of love the warmer glow. 

Of course I'm not content to sit 

And listen to the Poe-bird's twit, 
But I can fly and higher flit. 



8o POETICAL CHIPS. 

I give not reason to despair, 

For what is seemingly of air 
Is faith's material, — modest prayer. 

Were I to write all in a day 

That giveth thought and boundless sway, 
I yet again have more to say. 

But given in the rooted trunk. 

Before the rocks of Rennes are sunk; 
I sit in sadness, as a Monk. 

And I will bring me to a close. 

And close the light's infused pose; 
Know you as one and one who knows? 

I have a very weakly — span, 

And though I am in manner man, 
I ask you gently as I can. 

And will you give me thought alway 

To rise, to listen and to pray, 
Some other time — some other day? 

I HAVE A HOUSE NOT MADE BY HANDS. 

I have a house not made by hands 
Beyond the shores of golden sands ; 

'Twere pleasure there again to greet 
The echoes of life's wav-ed deep. 



POETICAL CHIPS. 8i 

SPIRIT BRIDE. 



I am watching, I am waiting 
For my spirit bride to come, 

O'er the lee-land gleams the fountain, 
Of that bridit and blissful home. 



Where the strains of gentle music 
Murmur to each lisping prayer ; 

I am longing for thy presence, 
I will shortly meet thee there. 



O what kindness greets my coming, 
Ah ! for greater love nor sigh ! 

Soon the wavelets shall discover 
Love's true message by and by. 

Hearts may pallor in their leaving. 

Yet deservingly we greet 
All the blessings, pains and pleasures, 

While they yet in kindness speak. 

O what kindness greets my coming, 
Ah ! for greater love nor sigh, 

Soon the wavelets shall discover. 
Love's true message by and by. 



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In the shadowy land where spirits dwell, 

I can feel the waves of light, 
And my heart reaches out, for I know quite well 

The echoes that speed the night. 



82 POETICAL CHIPS. 

LOVE. 

Love is such a blitheful 'thing, 
Love has such a tranquil way; 

Love would cause your heart to sing, 
Love would bow your knees to pray. 



Love is tedious to recover, 
"Love would still look for another. 



» 



Love would kerchief as she dances, 
Love would beat as sunlight prances 

All who her fond way opposes. 
She is fleet while wait — supposes. 

Love would faint and love would flicker, 
Love would long wait at the wicker; 

Rosy cheek and sweet as dew. 
Love would turn her lips to — you. 

Dancing in the woodbine wild. 
Sunny as the sunbeam's child. 



She is well-nigh — had enough, 
Drinking deep the bluebell's cup, 

You will well-nigh hear her sigh. 
Near the woodbine's tethered shy. 

Sigh again — ^the wind and roses — 
Sigh again, the heart reposes, 

Love is looking for her kind, 
Love is said more to be — blind. 



POETICAL CHIPS. 83 

Love is fragile while she goes, 

While she loves, she knows, she knows, 

Did she ever lose a lover 

She would feel it in her throes. 

Bend, fond people, to discover 
Had you been true !to your lover. 

Had you thought unto another 
Pure enchanting, meek and mild. 

Love condoling — loves a child. 

REDUNDANCY. 

O Girl, perforce I am dispelled, at ease. 

On looking on the side that knows no way. 
But to your dear and kind and loving heart, 

I dwell in tru4:h the mind of all you say. 
What you have said, what they have said, 

Who claim to love you most, 
And yet beyond what I have said 

I claim to make my boast. 

Where runs a little brooklet through the dale, 
It trickles from a course that cannot fail. 

love, true love, though oft beclouded o'er, 
What ito a greater hand can I implore 

For love — or ring within ithe circumstantial train, 
Had this been less redundant to my heart, 

1 may have proved how greatly loved thou art ! 



84 POETICAL CHIPS. 

DAME NATURE. 

Where runs the course of winding river's way, 

So rich esteemed in imagination gay, 
The flood, Dame Nature's roaring tide, 

Can naught but splash o'er rocks and fall so wide. 

A roaring, turning, bubbling stream before 
The morning breaks beyond my cottage door, 

O'er fen, o'er hill the daylight seems to glide 
Around the early mists on either side. 

The cock that crew while at the dawn of day 

Again he makes his round of whipping wings away; 

What time, Dame Nature sits an exact rule. 
The man the less of nature — more the fool. 

God's ways devising plans estate, 

"Makes all things in His time, and nothing late," 
He sits upon the morn's red ball of fire. 

And glows the rocks and crags His own desire. 

What fields — what thoughts our memories fill. 
What righteous actions do our bosoms thrill. 

Since God is just to give us ease and pain. 

To fear, we fear too much, what sin has slain. 

Some deep discordant sound. 

Or effigy of hateful Satan's bound. 
Not subject slave, to serve the master's will. 

But cleaving to his ways — ^the swine his fill. 



POETICAL CHIPS. 8$ 

While gluttony ribald passions run before, 
The every weakness of his faults In store, 

Dame Nature mans the man, but hell — the brute, 
A bantling is whose product will dispute. 

The days are wise whose obligation serves. 

The God who brings the light, nor darkness swerves ; 

His light is kindly nature, man's behest, 

The devils find ne'er such their bosoms rest. 

Great God, Thy name be praised in nature's glow 
That Thou dost kindle love so kindly so 

That none can rest, nor calm his fears betide, 
Except a hell is master of their fiendish lies. 

Again the early morn has called again. 
The cock to crow his all imagined strain. 

Dame Nature in her w^ind and woodbines sing, 
The holy joys that to a Christian bring. 

DISENCHANTMENT. 

We meet no more as once we met. 

When hearts were warmer in their glow. 

So soon you bid my sun to set 
Upon that morning — long ago. 

I knew you when a bound of joy 

In love of hope I can recall ; 
But now disabled still I lie 

With darkness o'er me like a pall. 

But now I know you will not find 

A greater love or richer share 
That glowed within my bosom then 

When hearts and hopes did not despair. 



86 POETICAL CHIPS. 

MILTON. 

Milton, sweet name, 

Where'er thy censors lit upon. 

Leagued with thy poetic fancy sweet will 

To all a dear soul holds to sympathy, 

Assuring thy divining light. 

To the host's sweet minstrelsy, 

And bathed in song's intolerance. 

To the praise of men. 

Where echoes thy fair name without 

The cloister of thy towered wall. 

So marks exuberance, so just within 

Of duty to the highest ethereal calls. 

To brand their dark dismay, or love of sin. 

A heaven to the blind, affliction's light. 

Unrolling to the gates of day. 

So live thy mournful, blitheful love of song; 

Sweet name — infusings to thy praise belong. 

BEAUTY FILLS THE BROW TO-DAY. 

Beauty fills the brow to-day; 

Love and light upon my way. 
Blessed thought I bid thee stay. 

Stay the day pants quickening numbers, 

Stay the soul that too oft slumbers, 
Ushered in with music ray. 



POETICAL CHIPS. 87 

THE PRAISE OF SPRING. 

Can I now say, depart ! those pleasant days ! 

Thou Spring morning, thy sunshine, and thy flowers — 

Come sweetly to me, if you please, gentle winds, 

Laden with perfume of choicest scentage; 

I read through all the deep tones 

Thy letters trys'ting grace ; 

Who is sufficient to partake 

Of blessings of music and light? 

Touch the harp's cord and bring to thy ears 

The sound-waves of gentle music, 

More sweet, more beautiful than an Eastern morning. 

But the solace is deep, and high, and broad and wide; 

And the gladness is as great, 

And the humor is refined advancing; 

More candid, more in understanding 

In the minds of the pure ones, the faithful, the sincere ; 

Beholding deceit in the nicety of a balance, 

And the greatness of the Soul ; 

With the sweeping of an Angel's wings. 

And "they shall Taugh at scars, who never felt a 
wound," 

But more sufficient is 'the balm thereof, 

And as the glad day of Spring returns, 

Enter thy renewed sunshine ! 

Thy glad hills, thy fields, and thy flowers ! 



88 POETICAL CHIPS. 

THE BY-GONES. 

Let by-gones be by-gones, 
But do not grieve the heart, 
The twinings now around it 
May cause the tears to start. 
Though sands they be weighty 
Upon another shore, 
Shall never press upon thee. 
Or vex thy heart — the more. 



Let by-gones be by-gones. 
Enough it is of life 
To bear along its sorrows 
Without its weight of strife; 
The truths that mock a lifetime 
Are recorded in the years ; 
Then, let by-gones be by-gones, 
Nor cause another tears. 



Let by-gones be by-gones. 
And let them go for aye 
The solace to another's tears 
Will always find its way. 



THE MOTIVE. 

How I pine to shine for thee to be. 

How I pine to shine for thee ! 
How I pine to shine when thou art truly mine, 

How I pine to shine for thee ! 

L OF C. 



POETICAL CHIPS. 89 

PROSPECTIVE. 

Some day in other lands I'll roam, 
Nor to forget the thoughts of home ! 

Earth's fleeting cloud, ''another sky," 
Will wreathe in beauty by and by. 

Some kindly spot in nature's green, 
Or solace by the woodland stream; 

Another voice, and yet to know 
The love that bids affections flow. 

Some day in other lands we'll meet. 
And learn of that we cannot speak; 

No vain regret shall be the cost 
Of hopes deferred and actions lost. 

Some day in other lands the gleam 
Of hope shall cherish all — it seems; 

Some day, alas ! and shall we know 
The love that bid affection's flow. 

KINDLY KISSES. 

I can feel the kindly kisses 

As the dew-drops on my cheek. 
And my heart is filled with wishes 

Of a passion yet to speak. 

As I lay me down to slumber. 

Surge the billows of the soul ; 
I am longing for thy presence. 

More completely manifold. 



90 POETICAL CHIPS. 

I HAVE A GOODLY HERITAGE. 

I have a goodly heritage, 

(By faith's redeemed ancestrage) 

Of lands and streams and silver edge, 
No strife invades my goodly hedge. 

My land lies rolling to the brook. 

Where drives the winds 
In many a nook, 

There oft I repose with my book. 

Or sometimes climb the higher tower, 
Where vision rests the quiet hour; 
Too high to view — ^the lowly flower. 

I have a goodly heritage, 

Of opportunities forgot. 
In lifting up to all mankind 

The truth, 'tis there — or truth is not 1 

I seem to guide my exact way, 
A heritage to all, who may, 

That lists with me, that all may say: 
"It is his own, provincial way." 

I have a goodly heritage, 

And all with me so may. 
May bow just so, that they may know 

My views as good as they. 



POETICAL CHIPS. 91 

LABOR'S PREROGATIVE. 

Who digs the mine? 

The deep abyss of time? 
The gifted trail that rolls me to the sea? 

The pick of sainted labor, overmuch? 
And brings the shining gold nigh unto me. 

Who builds the flame 

That rolls in yonder smokesitack tower? 

It is the self-same industry of man 

That gladdens every golden sunset ray 

That labor still commands — his inmost bower. 
And so we can, as may. 

The philanthropic plan of early right, 
The inertia of prudence and command. 

They are the much exalted, they 

Who have met to curb, 
And seek to slay the wrong who holds 

The betterment of hand. 

Of virtues that are radiant to the touch, 
With love and fellowship, 
And love divine of God 

We have no special right 

To lift the morning up, 
To roll its beauty o'er a sunset sea, 

Unless it is the law divine of such, 
We succor faith and wisdom 
To be free ! 



92 POETICAL CHIPS. 

LOVE'S WAITING. 

No hand can steer so gently this frail bark 

Through waters drear to ever brightening skies ; 

No heart of hearts can meet me more sincere, 
Or look with radiant glance from soulful eyes. 

No way has been more seemingly than this, 
Or led through bowers to opening sunny clime; 

And yet I fear my story is amiss, 

That you beheld no tokening tear of mine. 

No light has gleamed beyond my portal door. 

Unwished to seek thy predispos-ed grace ; 

No one that yearns for that sweet sympathy, 

Has feared to meet sweet judgment's quickening 
pace. 

No step has seemed more weary unto me 

That I should bring a doubt before your eyes — 

No song was ever sung more pleadingly, 
No tale in truth so told — in mute disguise. 

I yet will nestle to love's heart and lip, 

And nectar from sweet nature's bluebells sip. 

I love, brave heart ! that you shall know your own, 
That I, in giving mine, shall find — a throne. 



POETICAL CHIPS. 93 

OLD FRIENDS. 

Give me my old friends 

As they sturdily appear 

Upon the plaisance at noon-day, 

Chanting the Jubileean chant 

Of sun's warm ray, Instored heat, 

Of every battle to life's checkered call. 



Upon the mount of the early loves 

Stand I, and bid the circling round 

To many a fear 

That should I hold a call. 

Let me to them, and them to me, 

And I their bosom thrall. 



Les't I be weary of life's lone way. 
Embittered by no friendship's ceaseless day; 
Lest heart be unsusceptible of power, 
And I lay down my useful dower, 
As those whose ill suspicions run to hate. 
Give me the early love, the light, 
The early hour, the early fire dash so 
While still in memories glow ! 



94 POETICAL CHIPS. 

LAUNCH OUT. 

Launch out upon the ocean, 
Whence the fair winds come; 

They will bring you to that harbor, 
They will bring you to that home. 

Whence the morning light is gleaming, 
All its beauty on the seas; 

Never giving thought to murmur, 
For the Truths are such as these. 

Where no weary heart shall pallor 
In the ebb of sore distress ; 

Christ has promised 'to redeem you 
If you only to Him trust. 

We shall know no way to wander. 
We shall know no way to care, 

When our footsteps are in guidance, 
And our lips are sealed in prayer. 

Then betake yourself, my brother. 
And launch out upon the seas, 

Whence the fair winds dying never. 
For your charge is such as these. 

Let the royal gospel banner 
Still unfurl its cause of truth; 

Let us hasten to discover 

In its gleaming days of youth. 



POETICAL CHIPS. 95 

OUR MARCH. 

The moon it rose o'er hill and dale, 

While on our banners gleaming, 
We cut the bonds of all we love 

And yet in kindness seeming. 

While on our march — of time so fleet, 

In passing, it reminds us. 
We hear the echoes loudly cheer. 

The highest hopes that bind us. 

Our footsteps lifting to the drum. 

No heart's dismay can sever; 
We entertain a little gleam 

And then — -pass on forever. 

By morning light the eagle's eye. 

Our metal's truest steel ; 
We cut the air of blind despair. 

But not for this we feel. 

Our highest hopes in betterment. 

So kind in their abode ! 
And yet, we often try to shrink 

The mercy of our load. 



96 POETICAL CHIPS. 

SAUNTERINGS. 

I waited one day by the side of a ferry, 

And the towers of Bath grew so noble and strong 

That the heart's sweet perfume, like the blow of the 
cherry, 
Came over my vision of heaven-land song. 

I arose from my site, to a new joy elated, 
As ships that come sailing over the sea; 

For I knew in my soul it was heavily freighted 
With a lover's adoption and pearls from the sea. 

There may be love in the breeze, while the embers are 
glowing. 

There may be love in the breeze, in my story to tell, 
But I know it will never, while light as a feather, 

On downy soft cushions, a woodland to fell. 

Like an ocean of love, like a current is running 
And beckons thy ship to the trough of the sea, 

I can never remain just the same as I met you, 

Though your course may be running along as with 
me. 

We may take but a step in the thoughts that are 
nearest, 

Though the isles of the seas may be reeking with 
mirth, 

But the thoughts of our hearts are the thoughts that 
are dearest, 
And the home of affections, that giveth them birth. 



POETICAL CHIPS. 97 

THE MAID. 

Where beauty decks the shade of lawn trees' blade 
Upon the narrow porch there sat the maid, 
A maiden in her rare-time bloom of health, 
Where every laden wind communes the sylph. 
I there approached one day this calm bloom shade, 
And my obeisance to this beauty made. 

fond well, blood, where nature decks her dew, 

1 love you all as kindly as I do ! 

I love the stalwart ply of nature's bend, 
I love the gentle solace of a friend. 
Methinks again my bosom thrills and beams 
To all such pleasantries, more than it seems ! 
More than to know the woods and fields aglow. 
Now traversed by a warm sequested flow. 

WRITTEN UPON THE TOWER. 

Upon a tower long delayed, 
Its grand uprising to the mind. 
Where all may lift a kindly eye. 
As do the morning suns that shine. 
Its builder was of noted worth, 
Though much of heaven bound to earth, 
His vision ne'er escaped a friend. 
His placid mind, the culprit's end. 



98 POETICAL CHIPS. 

TO IDEALITY. 

In beauty 'tis as pure as snow 

As earth's touched kisses come and go, 
And nothing found within the heart 

That teems not of the gentle art ; 
Of honest pride 'the proper share, 

Of goodly blessing, rich and rare ; 
Of words, so kindly understood ; 

The guileless grace of womanhood. 

As fragrant as the flower of May, 
Or tossing joy above the clay; 

As birds their sweetest song unsung 
So pure our raptures love is one. 

who shall find One such as these? 
Refulgent joy shall ever please, 

1 hold there's nothing but in part 
That teems not of thy gentle art. 

THE LOVER. 

While yet still on and still he stayed, 
He strove to say good-bye ; 

His heart would beat — among the twigs ; 
The summer breezes sigh. 



POETICAL CHIPS. 99 

TPIE SPRING'S AWAKENING. 

The cock that crows 

The early waking morn, 
The man that feels 

The early sunshine glow. 

The cow that stalks 

Onward from the lea, 
And give the hovering night, 

Its salient close. 

The steed's encroachment, 

To his neighbor's thrift, 
The piebald of the days 

Soliloquy. 

They leave their tracks 

And the battle-axe. 
And the spring is here. 

For me. 



IN FAIRY TIME. 

In fairy moments such as these, 
The salient perfume of the breeze, 
Well met again to wander still 
Mid sunlit glade and daffodil; 
To know and to be known of thine, 
Familiar in a bolder rhyme, 
As rills unfold their echoes meet 
In fairy time. 

The woodbines cleave their graces still 
In forging chains of iron will. 
As in the Providence of life 
We yield, yet glory in the strife 
Beyond the theme of thought and life 
In fairy time. 



POETICAL CHIPS. 
COMPLIMENTARY. 

Dearest E — , fairest dawn, 

There I saw the poppies grow; 
I am glad unto the hour 

When I knew you, long ago. 

Coasting on the hill-side bower, 

When I reined my horse and sleigh ; 

Drew you to the summit top 
Where my still affections lay. 

I would pre-arrange my plight — 

Dream loves windows through the night, 

Till I reach the dawn of power; 

Dawn Thou art, thou sweet-named flower. 






When hearts that are wrung by sorrow, 
Or sad through grief and pain, 

The object we love will remind us. 
And oft come to us again. 



SH^ i?S^ i*^ 

•^gr ^1^ ^s^ 



Let me ever hear thy voice, 
Calling gently, "Come to me ;" 

Let me make thy love my choice, 
Let me ever faithful be. 



DCC 20 1906 



LfBRARY OF CONGRESS 



018 378 028 1 



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